Taste of the Future
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: A short "what if" scenario. If the events of the bread making had gone differently and Kevin's meddling had been less successful, but Ste's optimism still leads him to make a silly ring out of dough.


**Taste of the Future**

A/N: Inspired by Empathist's Real Arms Around Me (Chapter 13) and in my general rewatch of Stendan episodes. An incredibly fluff chunk of fic. What might have occurred if Brendan hadn't stayed with Kevin all night whilst Ste was in the deli, but Ste had still made his ring of dough.

X

There was a deep set frown at Ste's brow when Brendan peered at him through the window of the deli. He was stacking metal trays in order to carry them into the van parked outside. Brendan had been a good hour longer than he'd anticipated at the club, one disaster followed by a jittery Kevin who had seemed almost reluctant for him to leave. Brendan could guess why and it wasn't happening.

Ste looked up at Brendan's arrival and then his pout grew and the trays clattered together with a bit more force. "Didn't think you were coming back,"

"Burst pipe. Mess everywhere and then that eejit cut himself on some glass," Brendan explained. He approached Ste slowly, hoping he would soften towards him. "I'm here now. Anything you want me to do?"

It was frustrating that the mood had soured so fast when mere hours ago they'd been play fighting, dusting off flour and talking about the future like it was the easiest thing in the world. Trust him to screw it all up within such a short period of time and leave Ste in the lurch like he had.

"Just gotta load the van now," Ste said, avoiding eye contact, stiff shoulders and hollowed cheeks.

"Steven, I'm sorry," he said, meeting his gaze for the first time.

"Dun't matter," Ste said. He sighed and rubbed his face, spreading more flour over himself. Brendan smiled softly.

"Yeah it does." He walked out the back behind the counter to where Ste was and lifted a finger to his cheek, brushing the powdery white. "We're a team, you and me."

Ste let a smile slip through. Not on his lips, but on the softening on his features. "Are we?"

"Sure we are," Brendan said, tilting Ste's chin up until he was forced to make eye contact. "Who else is gonna help you burn bread?"

He smiled fully this time, his lips creasing in that give-away sign that told Brendan he'd been forgiven. "They turned out good."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And I saved us a few rolls for home."

Brendan sighed, cupping Ste's face. This was all new, all this domesticity and normality. Nothing had ever felt so good.

X

They'd loaded the van and headed home. Brendan ordered Ste to put his feet up and had set about making them bacon rolls – with _their_ bread – as a midnight snack. Brendan had managed to drip fat from the bacon everywhere as he wrestled with plates, knives and sauce bottles.

Ste was foggy eyed and half-lidded on the sofa when Brendan called his name in a curious way.

"Steven, what's this?" Brendan asked, Ste's makeshift dough ring between finger and thumb.

Ste had almost forgotten.

"Oh nothing, I was just messing."

Brendan took a monumental bite of the roll and walked to the sofa, handing Ste his and with the ring looped on his little finger. Ste filled his mouth hoping Brendan would leave it. He felt childish, particularly after the way Brendan had left him so long alone. It had been a fleeting moment, one of silly fantasy.

"Good bread, innit?" he said, trying the distraction, spraying a few crumbs.

"Course it's good," Brendan said, almost a dismissal. He held up the ring to have a good look at it. Ste found it harder to swallow down the bacon roll.

"What were you making?" Brendan asked, his food disappearing in moments. "For the wedding?"

Ste shook his head, putting his plate down. He shrugged. "Just…you know, it was…" Ste faced flushed hot. Brendan before him wasn't the intimidating brute of pain and fear, he wasn't the lonely coward denying his existence. He was warm and his smile softened his eyes. The lines on his face made him look tired and worn, but as comfort and protection, not of sadness and age. He had a smudge of sauce on his moustache and an expression of thought across his temple. He was the feeling of home, of love, of being adored. The promise of a future and completion.

"I thought you might..." - Ste took it out of Brendan's hand – "Wanna marry me. Wanna get married."

There was a consuming silence where neither moved nor breathed. Brendan stared straight ahead and seemed to speak as if he wasn't there in the room at all, like his answer hadn't consulted with him. It was so faint, Ste barely heard it over the general humming of the flat.

"I think I can manage that."

There was a drumming Ste felt in his head, which he hadn't even realised was his heartbeat. "Serious?"

Brendan clicked out of his brief trance and turned his head to Ste. His sleepy, bloodshot eyes shined with emotion and doubt. "If it's what you want. Then it's yours." He watched as Ste hurriedly wiped a fat tear rolling down his cheek. He was shy as he nodded.

"Good. Okay." Brendan said, shuffling away his own emotions as awkwardly as ever. He hadn't even begun to think through what weight these promises held. He just knew it felt right, it felt within reach.

He looked at the ring Ste was now clutching in a grip. "Can I eat that now?"

Ste laughed, tears shaking through it. He cleared his throat. "If you want,"

Brendan took it off him, pushed it onto his ring finger and took a bite. This was a taste of the future.

.


End file.
